


You Are Petty as Hell

by arachnidstardis



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Light BDSM, M/M, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-25
Updated: 2015-07-27
Packaged: 2018-03-25 17:27:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3818785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arachnidstardis/pseuds/arachnidstardis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So sonickitty posted <a href="http://sonickitty.tumblr.com/post/117337818340/awful-au-208">this</a> earlier, and I was immediately taken.  Have some Professor!skinny!Steve and Bucky as an architecture grad student in a stupid battle over parking spaces.</p><p>EDIT: This kind of got out of hand and is now probably a repository for stupid kinky smut.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Ol' Rustbucket

The skies were perfectly clear, and it was the time in the spring when the temperature had decided that for at least one day, it would be safe to go outside without a stupid amount of protective gear.  The streets of New York had been washed (kind of) clean the night before, and the air was mostly still, neither stagnant or windy.  Steve had a scarf around his neck anyways, a portfolio bag nearly his height over his shoulder, and a raincloud doggedly trailing behind him.  His socks were mismatched, his eyes looked like they had dark paint slapped underneath them with a palette knife, and the persistent beeping in his pocket reminded him that yes, he was scheduled to be in the studio five minutes ago, handing back the student work he had on his arm.  

Steve rounded the corner to go into the main building and stopped short, huffing, when he saw his motorcycle.  In the ten minutes it had taken him to park his bike, walk to his office, get these absolutely atrocious paintings (Except for Alice’s, Alice actually had a coherent grasp of color theory and line.  Greg would be okay with some work), and slog back to the studio where his first class was, some shitheel had decided that it would be perfectly acceptable to park diagonally across two parking spaces, blocking in Steve’s bike and just barely touching the wheel of Professor Cady’s yellow VW Bug.  It was a nasty old car, too.  He didn't know what model it was, but frankly he could give less of a shit, since it was dropping flakes of rust inches from his fucking motorcycle.  

Grumbling, Steve propped the portfolio up against his bike and pulled a pad of paper and a pen out of his saddlebag.  

 _“Dear sir or madam, ”_ he began, muttering what he was writing to himself as he leaned on the car.   _“I was on my way to my first lecture when I went to get something out of my bike and your nasty old rustbucket of a car was boxing me in.  I’m not sure if you ever took a driving lesson in your life, but just so you know, the white lines in the parking lot are there so that you can navigate your car in between said lines so that other people can park their vehicles there as well.  I just wanted to make sure you were aware of that, since from your parking job here, it looks like you just got absolutely plastered and then aimed your car in the general direction of a space.”_

Steve nodded and ripped the page out of the notebook.  He gently lifted the (single, mildewy) windshield wiper up off of the glass and trapped the note underneath it.  

 ~*~O~*~

After class, Steve staggered out of the building, one of his students thanking him and running off.  A couple of them always tended to hang around afterwards, which was kind of endearing.  Alice was still walking with him, updating him on her webcomic.  She wasn't as good with anatomy as she could be, but the colors in her comic were incredible.  Steve looked over at the tablet she was holding at his eye-level.  Unfortunately, she towered over him, especially with the heeled wingtipped shoes she was wearing, but he could still see the swaths of color she had spread across the digital canvas, showing a knight locked in battle with a great dragon.  

“Well, here you did an excellent job of leading the reader’s eye from the mouth of the dragon to the shield.  If you were going to do something like this again, though, I'd suggest having these swirls of fire moving in a similar way, to keep with the emphasis on the knight.”  Steve gestured at the screen without touching it, and Alice pursed her lips thoughtfully, brushing her blue and blonde bangs out of her eyes and up into her loosely-knit beanie.  

“Thanks, Professor.”

“You're welcome, Alice, but you know you can call me Steve.”

Alice snickered.  “You said that at the beginning of the year, yes.”

He was about to needle her for being formal when he realized they had gotten to his motorcycle.  

“Oh, it’s gone.  Good riddance.” Steve grimaced.  

Alice looked down at Steve.  “What’s gone?”

He pointed at the empty space next to his car.  “Some ass - I mean, someone parked their car at this absolutely ridiculous angle - “ He hopped off the sidewalk to show her, gesturing at the space the car had taken up - “rusting all over the place, and I’m pretty sure the passenger door was a different color than the rest of it.  I couldn’t move my bike! I left them a nasty note, though, don’t worry.”  Steve folded his arms.  

“So that’s why you were late for class?” Alice laughed, smoothing her long skirt.  

Steve frowned.  “No, I was late because I forgot to pick up the class’s paintings last night and had to run to my office.  And then, I couldn’t be more late, so I wrote the note.”

“Okay, Professor Rogers,” Alice said with a grin.  “I have to get to my next class, but I’ll see you on Wednesday!”  She waved and swirled off in a cloud of tulle and hand-knit clothing.  

He smiled and turned back to his bike.  There was something tucked into the windshield.  

_ “Maybe if your bike wasn’t taking up an entire regular parking space like you were pretending you had a real car, my parking wouldn’t have been such an issue. <3 the owner of the rustbucket.” _

It was written in industrial-looking small-caps, and the heart in the signature was blocky.  Probably a guy, then.  Probably.  Steve himself had really so-called “girly” handwriting, so he wasn’t going to immediately jump to conclusions.  

Steve folded the note and tucked it into his pocket, then scanned the parking lot.  The rustbucket, as it seemed to have been officially named, was across the lot.  He walked over to it, peering in the windows.  There wasn’t any sign of Steve’s note, but the passenger seat and backseat floors were littered with fast food wrappers, and at least one used condom.  

 _This can’t_ not _be a guy’s car, stereotypes be damned,_  Steve thought, and unfolded the note he had gotten back.  It was ripped out of a graph paper notebook, and three-quarters of it was blank.  He carefully folded it and tore off the bottom half, scrawling back a response.  

_ “That sure didn’t stop you from moving your car, though.  Motorcycle beats rustbucket. <3 the owner of the cool bike.” _

Steve again tucked the note under the windshield and walked back to his bike, hopping onto it, securing his saddlebags before popping on his helmet.  He started it up, zooming out of the parking lot to grab lunch, flying past the architecture buildings as class let out.  A tall guy with dark hair and bright eyes grinned as the bike roared past him, and turned suddenly to run back to the parking lot.  


	2. The Scarf Isn't Fake Vintage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 65pinkroses on tumblr posted [this](http://65pinkroses.tumblr.com/post/117881154722/aus-for-disabled-chronically-ill-otps), and the prompt for this chapter is a little ways down. As soon as I read it, I knew it needed to happen.

Bucky pulled the rickety old car into the college’s parking lot, grimacing as it made the odd clunking, “please be more careful shifting gears” noise it liked to do as he parked it.  He checked his short dark hair in the rear-view mirror (it was okay for now), unceremoniously brushed the empty McDonald's wrappers in his front seat onto the ground (there was a half-hearted attempt to aim for the little bin or whatever the fuck it was that was on the door, but really, who gave a shit?) and pulled the key out of the ignition, heaving his shoulder into just the right spot on the door to pop it open.  He hadn’t seen the short little blond guy who seemed intent on giving himself an aneurysm every time he saw Bucky’s car yet, but today, he had shoved a small, lined notebook into his bag, just so he’d have some writing material.  

 

In the notebook, he had already half-composed a couple sarcastic responses to the scathing notes, a little sad the guy’s bike wasn’t here so he couldn’t do something.  The first time had been a complete accident, a bad parking job in a rush on the way to class that had started late, but intermittently for a week or so after that, it was all entirely on purpose.  

 

He was just locking the door (with the key, what an old piece of slowly oxidizing shit that he couldn’t even lock it remotely) when he saw an annoyed-looking man in a windbreaker and a visor approaching him.  The man couldn’t have been younger than fifty, and strode over to Bucky’s car like he owned the damn thing, attempting to leer at him like he was taller.  Bucky could see the bald spot smack in the middle of his skull, and the man was still six feet away.

 

“What the fuck d’you think you’re doin’, parkin’ in a handicapped spot, you slimy little brat?  Y’think just cause yer late for class means y’can park there?”  Bald Spot was breathing heavily as he kept sauntering up to Bucky, pointing his finger and baring his teeth.  

 

Bucky just leaned on the car and lifted his eyebrows.  “Who, me?”

 

A vein in Bald Spot’s bald spot pulsed.   “Yeah, you ‘n yer fuckin lemon.  Get back in yer damn car and park somewhere else, asshole.”

 

“Nah, I’d rather not.  See, I’ve got this handy little thing here, it’s called a permit; just let me grab it.”  Bucky grinned and unlocked the car again, pulled the handicap tag out from the driver’s side sun visor, and hung it on the rear view mirror.  He reached into his bomber jacket with his right hand as he leaned out of the door and slammed it with his hip. “Better?”

 

The man’s face just went redder.  “YOU LITTLE SHIT!  YOU STOLE THAT, THERE’S NO FUCKIN’ WAY - “

 

He stopped yelling when Bucky unclipped the support for his prosthetic arm, tugged it out of his jacket, and whipped it at the man’s face.  Bald Spot just barely bent back in time to avoid losing an eye.  

 

“Do I look like I fucking stole the tag now, buddy?”  Bald Spot gave Bucky and incredulous look, and booked it as fast as his waddling legs could take him as Bucky brandished the arm over his head and growled.  

 

(Really, it was only from just above the elbow down; it’s not like he ripped his entire arm off.)

 

Bucky shrugged off his jacket and started to snap the prosthetic back into place when he heard a “thump” from behind him.  

 

The skinny blond guy, whose bike was parked in the space directly across from Bucky’s, had apparently fallen off his bike onto his side, and was shaking.  

 

“Shit!”  Bucky did up the last snap and threw his jacket on as he rushed over to the guy, kneeling next to him, only to find his face streaked with tears and a hand over his mouth.  He would have seemed like he was laughing, except his eyes were wide, his breath shallow, and he was scrabbling in his pants pocket for something.  Bucky reached into the guy’s pocket ( _this isn’t weird, he’s suffocating, he’s hot but also probably dying, get it the fuck together, Barnes_ ) and pulled out an inhaler.  

 

The guy’s eyes went a bit wider, and Bucky took the guy’s hand off his mouth and pressed the inhaler into it.  He puffed on it, breathing slowing, and closed his eyes.  

 

“Holy shit..... I can’t believe....... You nearly....... killed him with your arm!”  The guy started laughing again, but more subdued, sucking in breath when he could.  His voice was deeper than Bucky was expecting, and his eyes were a bright green-blue.  He half-grinned, starting to push himself up off the ground, and Bucky put a hand on his side and pulled him up into a sitting position.  

 

“Well, I couldn’t just let him yell at me for something entirely unwarranted, could I?”  Bucky grinned, settling down onto the asphalt as the guy took long, deep breaths.  

 

Bucky wasn’t surprised that the man didn’t seem to be hurt; he had on at least two coats (one leather and one fleece), and the bottom hem of a sweater peeked out the bottom of both of them.  There was a scratchy-looking wool scarf draped around his neck, the square kind with the pattern that people either had because it “looked vintage” and was therefore Cool, or actually was vintage, and he had pulled mismatched fluffy socks over his legs up to mid-shin that went down into dark brown leather boots.  His jeans were snug enough that not even three thick layers on his torso could hide the fact that he was nearly bone-skinny, and with the brisk spring air in New York along with the asthma, it wasn’t a shock that he was bundled up.  

 

“I’m going to be late for my class again.  Alice is going to give me so much shit,” the guy said, pushing himself up to standing.  Bucky jumped up and held out a hand, but he just leaned on his bike, pulling a large black notebook with papers shoved haphazardly into it out from the saddlebag.  “I knew you were an asshole, what with the parking jobs lately, but I didn’t know you were a sarcastic little shit, too.”  He held out his hand.  “Steve Rogers, Fine Arts professor.”

 

Bucky took his hand and shook it.  “James Barnes, but I suppose since we’re such good friends now that you can call me Bucky.  Architecture grad student, down one arm from a term in Iraq that paid for my tuition.  Not really sure it was worth it, since tuition here is an arm and a leg, or so I’ve heard.”  He grinned, wider this time, looking Steve in the eyes, who leaned back and laughed a full-belly laugh.  

 

“Oh, I did my undergrad work here; I’m very aware.”  He wiped a laugh-induced tear away and rolled his eyes, then looked to the building.  “Really, though, I ought to go.  They’re pretty used to me showing up late, and we’re just finishing up work I assigned last class, but I still ought to be there if they have questions.”  

 

“Can I walk you to class?”

 

“Won’t you be late?”  Steve shoved the notebook under his arm and looked up at Bucky.  “At the very least, you have to fix your parking job.  You’re not blocking anyone in, today.”  He beamed the most shit-eating grin Bucky had ever seen, including his own, and started across the parking lot, limping slightly.  

 

Bucky ran to catch up with him.  “No, seriously, I insist.  I don’t have class for an hour and you just had an asthma attack because of me, it’s the least I could do in case someone else decides fake arms are weapons besides yours truly.”  

 

Steve snorted.  “I’ll admit, I’ve never seen that approach.”

 

“It’s certainly an unorthodox one, but it works.”

 

The pair headed towards the art building, crossing the parking lot and walking down the sidewalk.  Steve shook his head.  “Well, I’d say that explains the parking jobs, but you seem to have done okay today.”

 

“Well, I wasn’t, to quote an angry little man, “ _absolutely plastered_ ” today,”  Bucky started.  He pulled the notebook out of his jacket pocket, flipping it to a pocket in the front, and pulled out the smattering of notes that had been left on his car.  “Yup, that was what you said.”  

 

Steve shot Bucky an annoyed look.  “You kept those?”  He stopped in the middle of the sidewalk.  “You’ve been fucking with me on purpose.  Holy shit.”  

 

“Oh, yeah, totally.  The architecture buildings are close enough that if I eat lunch outside the graduate quad, I can just about see you flip your shit every time you get out of class.  I didn’t think you were a professor, though, or I’d have let you off easy.”  He thumped Steve on the back, who glared at him and started walking again.  

 

“You’re a piece of fucking work, Barnes.”  He sped up a bit, squaring his shoulders and stalking off towards the art building, leaving Bucky to half-jog for a moment to catch up.  

 

“Hey, hey, I didn’t mean to offend you.  I thought you were enjoying it too.  And didn’t I say to call me Bucky?”  He stopped in front of Steve, trying to smile, holding his hands up.  

 

Steve pursed his lips, and Bucky yanked his eyes up from his mouth to his eyes.  “I’ve been more pissed than anything, honestly.  Like, I know people don’t like motorcycles, but that’s probably the most dickish thing someone’s done to mine.”  He moved to go around Bucky, who just took a step to block him.  

 

“Look, let me try to make it up to you?”  Bucky tried to turn on his “big blue eyes,” as his entire family called them, and hoped it wouldn’t be to no avail.  

 

“....How?” Steve settled back on his heels and looked up at Bucky.  

 

Bucky grinned.  “Coffee sometime?”

 

Steve glowered for a moment, but looked back up at him and nodded resolutely.  “Sure, but you’re paying.  Now, really, I’m late.”  He shoved around Bucky and headed into the building, leaving him standing on the sidewalk.  

 

He just grinned, though, and pulled out his cellphone as he turned around to head to the graduate quad.  

 

 ~*~O~*~

 

**To: Natasha**  nat dude bro youll never guess what just happened


	3. A Damned Good Latte

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky and Steve go on a date! Finally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, there's over 60 of you subscribed to this fic! Thank you!!
> 
> This chapter got a bit away from me. I think it more than doubled the length of this fic, and also half of it is straight-up porn. You're welcome.  
> (This is actually the first porn I've written, so if you like it, comment maybe? I'd like to hear what you guys liked and didn't like about it.) TW for some mild BDSM elements.

Steve walked around the classroom, observing his students.  Alice was impeccable as always, capturing the woman posing for the class nearly perfectly.  The student Steve was behind now, Brandon, had a great grasp of color, but was struggling with his anatomy.  Steve gently pointed out a few places he could tweak the positioning, and Brandon tapped the end of his paintbrush against his lip before dipping into his flesh tones again.  Steve glances at his watch. 

“Alright, class, about ten minutes more and we’ll wrap it up for the day.”

He circled over to the left, where a girl was looking back and forth between the model and her painting, blushing furiously.  Steve caught her eye, and she looked down and blushed even further. 

A few minutes later, the model wrapped her bathrobe back around herself and stepped into the studio bathroom to change into her clothes.  Steve walked over to the student who had been flustered. 

“Same thing happened to me the first time we painted a guy in my undergrad painting class.  You’ll get used to it, don’t worry.” He bumper her shoulder a little and winked, and she giggle-snorted. 

“Thanks, Professor Steve.”  She packed her paints up and shot him a shy smile. 

Steve gave her a tiny salute and kept circling the room, making sure everyone was packed up, shaking the model’s hand and thanking her on her way out. 

“Don’t forget, next class we wrap these up and present your other figure project! Midterm projects are due in two weeks!  Bye!!” Steve yelled as some students left early, and answered a few questions as everyone trickled out. 

Finally, everyone was gone, and Steve slumped on a stool, pulling out his phone.  There were five or six new messages, all from Bucky.  They’d been texting each other all week, firing barbs at each other, and Steve was significantly less pissed at the guy than he had been earlier.  Also, he was really, really hot, which was helping his case. 

> **Bucky:** Hey Steve, I was wondering if you wanted to grab some coffee today?
> 
> **Bucky:** If you had time, that is.
> 
> **Bucky** : On a date.
> 
> **Bucky:** Please don’t think I’m an idiot.

And one half an hour after the others.

> **Bucky:**  STEEEEEVE

Steve laughed and replied, grabbing his bag and slinging it over his shoulder. 

> **Steve:** I was in class, you punk.  I’ll be out in front of the art building in five. 

He had gotten down the first flight of stairs and paused to catch his breath when his phone went off in his pocket.  Steve sighed.

> **Bucky:** I’ve been outside for fifteen minutes hurry your ass up

Steve grinned and went down the last three flights as fast as he could, pausing at the bottom to collect himself again and look like he hadn’t just run down the stairs.  He pushed open the door to the outside to see Bucky sitting on his motorcycle. 

Bucky grinned and waved lazily, leaning on the handlebars of Steve’s bike. 

“Hey, punk. Ready to go?”

Steve walked up to the bike and frowned, crossing his arms.  “Wow, Bucky, I didn’t know you got a motorcycle that looked exactly like mine, moved mine out of its parking spot, and then put yours there.  ‘Cause that’s the only reason you should be on that bike, if it’s yours.” He said it with a grin, and leveled his gaze with Bucky’s. 

“See, I figured you’d say that, but I found the best coffee place to take you that I’ll bet you haven’t been to yet, so I thought it might be okay,” Bucky said, swinging his leg over and off the bike anyways.  He hopped onto the sidewalk and grinned down at Steve.  “That sound good to you?”

Steve shot Bucky a mock glare.  “But you’re paying, right?”

“Oh yes,” Bucky said, reaching over to ruffle Steve’s hair with his good arm. “I will buy you whatever kind of fancy coffee your hipster ass desires.”

Steve snorted.  “You think you have me pegged just because I’m an art professor?”

“I was hoping to at least buy you the damn coffee before we talk about any kind of pegging,” Bucky said, waggling his eyebrows at Steve and grinning. 

“Oh my god, Bucky,” Steve said, looking down and knowing he was flushed bright red across his nose from ear to ear.  He reached up and straightened his hair, trying to brush it back into place while Bucky cackled next to him. 

Steve hadn’t been to the coffee shop Bucky took them to, yet, which was surprising.  It was tucked into the upper floor of a record store, which you had to walk through to get to the upstairs, and Steve took a moment to peruse their selection, much to Bucky’s amusement. 

“You won’t let me call you a hipster, but you’re considering getting records, which means you have a record player, which makes you a _massive_ hipster,” he said as Steve dug through the bargain bin. 

“That’s just because my mom left me one, and I happen to occasionally use it,” Steve shot back, finding nothing he was interested in. 

Bucky rolled his eyes.  “You’re such a hipster, mister hipster glasses.”

Groaning, Steve all but shoved him up the stairs to the café.  “They’re prescription, you ass.”

“Suuuure they are, Stevie.”

Steve almost stopped short.  “Stevie?”

Bucky turned back on the narrow staircase to look at Steve.  “Yeah, it’s a nickname, people give them to other people sometimes.  I, for example, was born James Buchanan Barnes.”

“How presidential,” Steve said, trying to hide a grin. 

Bucky smirked.  “Yeah, he’s the only one I remember.”

“What about George Washington?” Steve asked as they walked through the door at the top of the staircase.  The coffee shop-slash-café could only be described as quaint.  There were two windows thrown open at the back of the shop, a door between them that opened onto a balcony.  Mismatched tables and chairs were scattered around the floor, some with tablecloths and lace doilies for coffee cups, some glass with little woven placemats.  There was a bar to the right that had both coffee machines and booze, and across from it was a large mirror.  A small suit of armor was standing in the corner, and posters from the music shop downstairs lined the walls, along with a few small murals painted decades ago.  Faint music played over hidden speakers, adding to the ambiance of the room.  No one else was in the shop, and the last strains of the evening sun seeped through the windows as the sun started to set. 

“George who?” Bucky walked up to the bar and leaned on it.  “Natasha! Two mocha lattes, please.”

Steve walked up next to Bucky, hopping onto one of the bar stools.  “Oh, does ‘I’ll pay’ also mean ‘I’ll pick out your drink for you,’ now?”

“It does when Natasha makes the best lattes in this city,” Bucky said, winking at the redhead behind the counter. 

She rolled her eyes.  “You must be Steve.  I do make a pretty damn good latte, if it makes you feel any better.” 

“Nice to meet you,” Steve said, suddenly feeling a bit out of his depth.  Natasha was gorgeous, her wavy red hair shaved on one side, and tattoos curved from her pale neck underneath her striped croptop down her arms.  She turned back to the two men, and looked Steve in the eyes.  She had winged her eyeliner perfectly, and her ensemble was finished with deep purple lipstick.  Steve was positive she could kill a man with a glance just by looking at her. 

“Nat’s my roommate,” Bucky said, by way of a belated introduction. 

“This ass has been going on about you for weeks, Steve,” Natasha said in a bemused voice.  “It’s nice to finally put a face to ‘that hot guy I keep fucking with in the parking lot.’”  She poured foamy, steamed milk into two mugs with a twist of her wrist, and handed Bucky and Steve each a latte with a perfect milk-foam leaf in the center. 

“Thank you,” Steve said before sipping the latte gently.  It _was_ damned good. 

Natasha left the room and went through a door behind the bar, presumably into a kitchen, leaving Steve and Bucky on the benches, looking at each other. 

“Did you really say all that to Natasha?” Steve said, not daring to look up from his latte at Bucky.

“Yeah, although I wasn’t really expecting her to mention it.” 

Steve looked up at Bucky in time to see him run his hand through his hair.  “It feels kind of dumb to have messed with you now? I’m glad I got to take you out for coffee from it, though.”

“Me too,” Steve said.  He flushed again, gripping the sides of his coffee mug. 

“Hey,” Bucky said, and Steve turned to see what he wanted right into Bucky, who had leaned in closer to Steve.  Their faces came together almost too hard, and Steve nearly pulled away when his teeth clinked into Bucky’s, but then Bucky tilted his head and leaned in a little more, and Steve felt warm from his nose to his chest into his stomach as he felt how soft Bucky’s lips were on his.  He took his hands off of his latte and reached up to Bucky’s face, letting his fingers trail over his chin (which was also warm, and a little stubbly) and back into his hair.  Bucky’s mouth opened and he gasped, fingers twining in Steve’s hair and pulling him in closer.  Steve felt Bucky’s left hand slip under his jacket and wrap around his waist, and he was embarrassed for a second at how bony his hips were before letting it go. 

Bucky pulled away after a moment, but stayed fairly close to Steve, running his right hand through Steve’s hair as Steve pulled his hands off the back of Bucky’s neck to let them rest on his shoulders. 

“Wow,” Steve breathed, and blinked slowly. 

Bucky smiled slowly, letting it melt over his face as he looked at Steve. 

“Stevie, I would very sincerely like to blow you until you can’t stand, if I may be so forward,” Bucky said. 

Steve started to sputter, and Bucky grinned. 

“Not immediately, like, I’d like to work my way up to that, but I really can’t wait to get my mouth on you,” he said as he leaned in again and nosed Steve’s head to the side so he could kiss his neck gently. 

Steve gasped.  “Where exactly do you plan to do this, here?” He clung to Bucky as he kissed his way down Steve’s neck, and lifted his head to look Steve in the eyes, lips a fraction of an inch from his. 

“My apartment is upstairs.”

Steve grinned and kissed Bucky on the nose, gently.  “What are we waiting for, then?”

“That’s what I like to hear,” Bucky whispered, and stood up abruptly, grabbing Steve by the hand and dragging him out the door.  “BYE, NATASHA, WE’RE GOING TO MAKE OUT SO DON’T COME IN,” he yelled as they left, and Steve blushed even more than he was already, which was an accomplishment. 

“Bucky!”

“It’s fine, that’s what she does when she has people over anyways.”  Bucky pulled Steve up one more flight of stairs, digging through his pockets for his key while Steve panted and leaned on the wall.  Bucky looked up from putting the key in the lock as Steve tried to take a deep breath. 

“Hey, are you good?”

Steve waved his arm.  “Yeah, just a little winded.”

“Good,” Bucky said, and leaned in to kiss Steve again.  Steve closed his eyes, and immediately opened them again as Bucky looped his arms under Steve’s hips and yanked him upwards.  Steve threw his arms and legs around Bucky and yelped.  “Better?” Bucky grinned. 

Steve looked down at Bucky, open-mouthed, and Bucky carried him into the apartment.  He didn’t get the chance to look around very much before Bucky dropped him onto a worn blue couch and slid his hands under Steve’s jacket, shucking it off to the side.  Bucky pulled off his leather jacket as well, throwing it behind him, and settled over Steve with his knees on either side of his hips and stared down hungrily.  Steve swallowed as Bucky leaned down and gently started to kiss him again, and groaned into his mouth when Bucky lowered his hips and very slowly began to grind into him. 

They stayed like that, kissing and running their hands over each other, for a while, Steve feeling like he couldn’t get any harder.  Bucky used both his hands to tease Steve, the right touching him lightly all over his body, the left just holding him down.  Then, Bucky got up, and Steve remembered his earlier promise. 

“You have any condoms?” Steve asked breathlessly, as Bucky got up again and pushed Steve’s knees gently to either side. 

Bucky looked up at Steve from under his lashed.  “’Course I do, Stevie,” he said, and Steve shuddered slightly at the nickname.  Bucky pulled a condom out of his back pocket, and Steve threw back his head and laughed. 

“You certainly were expecting this to go well,” Steve said, and Bucky leaned forward, sliding his hands up Steve’s thighs. 

“Well, I _do_ think you’re really hot, and I _know_ I’m pretty damn attractive, so yeah, I was pretty confident I could convince you to do a little heavy petting, and safety is key,” Bucky said, sliding his thumb under the button of Steve’s jeans.  Steve swallowed again as Bucky undid the button and pulled the zipper down, and let out a tiny sigh as Bucky pulled his pants open and mouthed at his dick through his boxers. 

Bucky slid his hands under Steve’s hips and tugged on his pants, sliding down both the jeans and boxers in one motion, and whistled.  “Damn, Steve, you’re certainly not compensating for anything,” he joked as he slid the condom down.  Steve didn’t answer, gasping as Bucky pulled the condom down to the base of his cock and kept stroking.  “You’re gorgeous…” Bucky trailed off and licked at the head a few times before closing his mouth over the tip. 

Steve looked down at Bucky just in time to see him take as much of Steve into his mouth as he could.  He groaned and tried not to let his eyes roll back into his head, because Bucky was right, Steve was pretty big, and Bucky just kept sinking down onto him.  Steve finally had to close his eyes in pleasure as he felt Bucky take him into the back of his throat, and he hummed a little as his mouth finally hit the base. 

“Holy shit, Bucky, oh my god,” Steve gasped out, and his hands flew to the back of Bucky’s head.  He tried not to fist his hands in Bucky’s hair as he swallowed around the head of Steve’s cock.  Bucky reached back with one of his hands to cover Steve’s and gently squeezed, until Steve took the hint and tugged Bucky’s hair tighter.  His jaw went slack, and Steve slipped a little further down his throat.  “Fuck,” Steve choked out, and gently started to pull Bucky off of him.  Bucky let Steve pull all the way off, and Steve just held his head for a moment, reveling in how Bucky looked as into it as Steve was, just because Steve was gripping his hair so tightly.  His eyes were fluttering, and his mouth was still hanging open.  Steve felt like he was going to come without Bucky even touching him further. 

“Bucky,” Steve said gently, and Bucky slowly opened his eyes and focused on Steve. 

“Tell me what you want, Bucky.”

Bucky looked at Steve for a moment, and licked his lips.  “I’d really like it if you held my head with both hands and just fucked my mouth until you came,” he said, grinning when his words made Steve groan and close his eyes. 

“Okay.  Okay, we’re gonna do that, and then we’re gonna talk about exactly how kinky you are, because this just got a hell of a lot better,” Steve said, and reached with his other hand to grab the back of Bucky’s head in a two-handed grip. 

Steve made sure to do exactly what Bucky wanted, trying not to gag him too much, and pulling him off every so often for air.  He was warm, and soft, and kept up just the right amount of suction as Steve fucked into his mouth.  Every so often he made a tiny moan over Steve’s dick, and each one sent a bolt of arousal up Steve’s spine.  Finally, Steve couldn’t take it anymore.

“Bucky, Bucky, I’m gonna, Buck, ohmygodBucky –“ He came as he ran his words together, and Bucky grabbed his hips and deepthroated him as far as he could go as Steve let go of his hair and curled over Bucky, panting.  As soon as Steve came back to himself, he sat up, pulling Bucky off of him. 

Bucky looked dazed, eyes half-lidded and lips red and puffy.  Steve pulled the condom off, knotted it, and tossed it to the side, tugging Bucky up from the floor onto the couch. 

“Hey, Buck, talk to me,” he said, running his hand through Bucky’s hair and wrapping his arm around him.  Bucky laid his head on Steve’s chest and hummed, curling his arms around Steve’s chest. 

“Steve….” Bucky pulled Steve down until he had Steve tucked under his chin and pulled up tight against his chest.  “Stevie, I have been daydreaming about that since I got your number; you are so hot, sweetie.”

Steve flushed.  “Really?”

“Yeah…. Let’s do that again sometime.”  Bucky trailed off, kissing the top of Steve’s head.  “Can you stay a while?”

He smiled.  “Yeah, I definitely can.”  He paused.  “Do you have a blanket or something? I’m a little cold.”

Bucky lifted one arm off Steve to grab a fleece throw that had been on the back of the couch.  “Here, ya tiny little punk,” Bucky said, tucking it around Steve and kissing the top of his head again. 

“Thanks, Bucky,” Steve said, already feeling tired after orgasming. 

“Any time, Stevie,” Bucky said, and they drifted off. 


	4. Saturday Morning Eggs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shit is discussed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow i am updating AGAAIN have fun kids

Bucky woke up sweating and half-hard.  What was left of his left arm was also quite firmly asleep.  He opened his eyes to find his nose buried in Steve’s hair and their legs tangled together.  Right.  He had blown Steve last night.  He had just closed his eyes again just to remember how awesome that had been when Steve made a tiny snuffling noise and snuggled a little closer into Bucky’s chest.  Bucky tried not to make any noise.  The guy was just so damn adorable. 

He ran his fingers through Steve’s hair softly.  “Hey, Stevie, you’re on my arm, babe.”  Steve snuffled again and grunted, twisting and turning over, then stretching out like an over-sized cat.  He straightened completely out, flexed his fingers, and rolled back over to look up at Bucky. 

“G’morning,” he said huskily, and Bucky held back a sigh. 

“Hey,” Bucky said, still running his hands through Steve’s hair.  He leaned down and kissed him, just softly letting their lips touch, gentle and open-mouthed.  Bucky let himself slip back into the place between waking and sleeping again, content to drift with his arms around Steve for a few moments.  The apartment was quiet, and rain dripped softly onto the windowsill as they lay on the couch. 

After a while, Steve pulled away.  “What time is it?” he asked, voice still scratchy from sleep. 

“’Bout 8am.  We sure conked out,” Bucky said, sitting up and pulling Steve up with him.  Steve yawned and stretched again, blushing when the blanket slipped and he realized he still wasn’t wearing pants or underwear. 

Bucky smirked and leaned over to grab Steve’s pants off the ground.  “Here.  Lemme make you something to eat,” he said, and vaulted over the back of the couch into the kitchen. 

“Do you want any help?” Steve said, tugging his pants on and padding behind Bucky, leaning on the counter. 

Bucky dug through the fridge, setting eggs, milk, shredded cheddar cheese, and butter down next to the stove.  “Nah, I’ve got this shit locked down.  You want anything else in your eggs? Do you even like eggs? That’s kinda my Saturday morning thing.” He paused to look at Steve, who was grinning. 

“Saturday morning eggs sound great,” he said.  “I’m not allergic to any of that, anyways.”

“What are you allergic to, then?” Bucky pulled down a bowl from a cabinet and grabbed a fork out of the silverware drawer, stepping around Steve and kissing him on the top of his head as he reached behind him. 

Steve laughed.  “Nothing big.  Dust and mildew, possibly shellfish, we were never sure on that one.  Most of the other stuff that’s wrong with me isn’t an allergy.” 

“Stevie, even if you are horribly sick, ain’t nothing wrong with that ass.” Bucky turned around to put a pan on the stove, winking at Steve as he went.  Steve flushed. 

“Hey, uh, we kinda went to sleep before I could do anything for you last night,” Steve started, and Bucky waved his arm.  He turned back to the counter, cracking four eggs into a bowl. 

“You totally did it for me, and I like making people come a whole hell of a lot, don’t worry about it, babe.” Bucky stirred a splash of milk into the eggs and threw a pat of butter onto the pan.  The butter melted out into a puddle and started to sputter, and Bucky tilted the eggs into the pan, still stirring the egg-milk mixture as it slid out of the bowl.  “You said somethin’ about talking about kinky shit though? I am all about that, Stevie-doll.”

Steve snorted.  “Where do you get these nicknames from?”

“Just pulling ‘em out of my ass, y’know.”  Bucky shook the shredded cheese out of its bag onto the eggs, grabbing a wooden spoon out of the collection of them in a large mug next to the stovetop.  “But, kinky shit.  You a top or a switch or what? I know you ain’t a sub after last night,” he said, pointing the spoon at Steve in an almost-accusatory manner, grinning sleazily. 

Steve swallowed, blushing _again_ (Bucky was really interested in seeing exactly how far down that blush went), and crossed his arms.  “Um, I’m a bit of a switch.  I haven’t really had the opportunity to dom in a while; people tend to get put off by how small I am, ‘specially girls.”

“Babe, I don’t want you to take this the wrong way, but I would be fucking ecstatic if you dommed me, partially specifically _because_ you’re bitty.  Also, because if you’re already a stubborn firecracker outside of the bedroom, I really want to see what you’re like when you have me pinned to a bed.  But that’s just my opinion,” Bucky said, turning back to the eggs and stirring them as they started to coalesce into fluffy lumps. 

“I, uh.  Wow.  Okay,” Steve stammered out.  “That sounds great. Um.  How are you with bondage?”

Bucky stirred the eggs one more time and picked up the pan, forgoing an oven mitt to just grab it with his prosthetic hand.  He grabbed two dishes out of the drying rack next to the sink and used the wooden spoon to neatly divide the eggs in half and slide them onto the plates, and set the plate in the sink.  He handed a plate to Steve and gestured towards the couch, grabbing another two forks and following Steve as he headed back into the living room. 

“I’m pretty good with it.  There’s some rope and a couple sets of padded cuffs here, along with some other bondage gear.  I have some stuff for heavier play but I tend to stick with the lighter stuff.  Sometimes it’s cathartic and sometimes it’s a little…..” He trailed off and waved his prosthetic a little.  “Brings back some bad shit, y’know?”

Steve nodded seriously.  “Okay, good to know.  I’m better on the lighter side as well, although that’s more a measure of what I can take physically.  Dirty talk?”

“Babe.” Bucky grinned ear to ear.  “You could probably talk me to orgasm if you didn’t blush your way through it.”

“Shut up,” Steve said, smiling and punching Bucky in the arm and, yes, blushing. 

Bucky scooped up a bite of eggs with his fork.  “But is that cool with you, if I talk? I’m a reeeeaallly talkative sub,” he said, “when I don’t have a cock down my throat.”

Steve accidentally inhaled his eggs and starting coughing.  Bucky reached over and thumped him on his back a couple times, and then jumped up to grab him a glass of water while Steve covered his eyes and tried to breathe normally. He chugged down half the glass of water when Bucky returned, face burning, and gave Bucky an incredulous look. 

“Warn a guy, next time?”

“Now, where’s the fun in that,” Bucky grinned. 

“Doesn’t seem very fun on my end,” Steve grumbled, and shoveled a huge bite of egg into his mouth. 

Bucky scooped his last bite of eggs into his mouth and swallowed.  “So, you dom more, but do you prefer topping or bottoming? Or both, both is totally okay with me,” he said, trying to nonchalantly wipe his mouth on his shirtsleeve. 

“Go get a napkin,” Steve said.  “The latter; I’m good with either as long as there’s enough lube.”

“Ew, why would you not use lube?” Bucky said from the kitchen, coming back with a strip of about ten paper towels, which he tore in half and threw at Steve. 

Steve dabbed at his mouth and folded the paper towels carefully, setting them on top of the plate and put both on the coffee table in front of the couch.  “That’s a bit of a long story. High school stuff.”

Bucky nodded sagely.  “Ah, yes, high school stuff.  When everything was crazy and nothing mattered, especially lube.”

“Pffft.” Steve laughed.  “So true.” 

“So, are you doing anything this afternoon, or do you just want to hang out and watch TV or something?” Bucky grabbed Steve’s plate off the coffee table and headed back into the kitchen.  “No, you stay there; I’m just putting these in the dishwasher.”

Steve sat back down onto the couch and folded his hands in his lap.  “Well, I don’t have class, and I don’t have anything to grade this weekend, so I’m yours for pretty much all weekend.”

“That is what I like to hear.” Bucky grabbed a laptop off the coffee table and booted it up.  “Hand me the black HDMI cable up near the TV, would you?”

“Sure.” Steve hopped up and grabbed the cable that he guessed was the correct one.  He wasn’t tech illiterate, no matter what Alice told him when he tried to use her drawing tablet, but he just wasn’t great with it. 

Bucky smiled at Steve.  “Awesome.  Now, how do you feel about Archer?”


End file.
